A Better Kingdom
by Rye-bread
Summary: Marcellus Gallio, a Roman commander who carried out the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, becomes His follower and is sentenced to death himself. His love, Diana, chooses to go with him; based on "The Robe", the book and movie; their final momemts together.


A story for the Season of Lent…for a category that doesn't yet exist at FF-dot-net…at least not under the title of the book and movie the story is taken from.

I was watching my DVD of The Robe, and I thought of doing this. I grew up watching it every Easter on TV. I read the book in 10th grade-the year I started feeling so depressed. I couldn't understand why. 40 years later, I don't think I still understand.

The problem of suffering, whether it's the private despondency of a high schooler or the death, pain, hunger, and loss of the people of Haiti following the 2010 earthquake-or the eternal suffering of those who reject God is a conundrum

Each person has their own pain, both seen and unseen. There's nothing profound about this observation. The ability of some to rise above their own and tend to the hurt of others-that's profound.

Some explanatory notes. Lloyd C. Douglas took up writing when he retired from the ministry in his 50's. The story The Robe, was written in 1942, to the response of a letter from a reader of his other novels, speculating on the fate of the robe of Christ.

According to the Bible, the Roman soldiers gambled for it. This was a traditional custom…sort of gruesome…divvying up the belongings of the condemned prisoners. Crucifixion was the preferred method of execution for traitors, escaped slaves, and the lowest criminals.

Marcellus Gallio, the spoilt son of a Senator, who was assigned to Palestine as punishment for insulting another spoilt aristocrat, Caligula, the presumptive successor of Tiberius Caesar. They were also rivals for the hand in marriage of Diana Gallus, the daughter of a Legate, another high government official.

Marcellus and the garrison under his command was given a routine duty…keep the peace in Jerusalem during the Passover, and preside over the crucifixion of a Galilean arrested for treason…Jesus of Nazareth.

He plunged into a deep depression after the death of Jesus. He assumed the Robe was cursed. Eventually, he was healed of his depression. He became a Christian and joined his former slave, Demetrius.

There are some historical inaccuracies in both the book and the movie…like we haven't heard that before. Both the Wikipedia entry on Caligula and the movie review at Amazon-dot-com emphasize that persecution of Christians did not begin until after Caligula's time in power.

The emperor's real name was Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. He was the son of Germanicus, a legendary general. When he was young, he went around the army encampment dressed in a child-sized soldier's garb. He got the nickname Caligula from the caliga, the "soldier's boot". The name means "little pair of boots". The historians report that Tiberius had become extremely tyrannical and unpopular. Caligula's ascension was greeted with joy and relief. He governed well for a couple years. Then he fell deathly ill.

After his recovery, he became increasingly irrational. He embarked on great building programs, despite the mounting public debt. He began to govern in the same manner Tiberius had done, putting his political opponents on trial for treason and having them executed. He proclaimed himself a god and had his images set up in temples in Rome and around the empire.

I threw some extra names into the story to round it out and give the flavor of authenticity. I hope it doesn't confuse the reader too much. Marius and Sulla are two Roman leaders who conducted a prolonged civil strife which hastened the decline of the Roman Republic.

It was the classic struggle between the old aristocracy and the new citizenry. Marius had opened up Roman citizenship and army enlistment to the plebeians. Sulla responded by conducting a mad purge that killed thousands of Romans.

Claudia Procula, wife of Pontius Pilate, was the daughter of Empress Julia, daughter of Caesar Augustus and wife of Caesar Tiberius. Tiberius adopted her. And as related in the Gospel according to Mathew, chpt 27, v 13, she warned her husband, "Have nothing to do with that righteous man; for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him."

The religion of Western civilization is from the Hebrews. The science of the West comes from the Greeks. The law of the West comes from the Romans. The great ideal of all these cultures was equality and accountability of both the powerful and the weak to the laws of God and man, and that government should be fair, and not at the whim of unjust men. That struggle took place then, and continues today.

Let me set up the last scene of the book. Marcellus is on trial for his life before the Emperor of Rome, Caligula, who wants to discredit the Senator Gallio, settle his grudge with Marcellus, and have Diana. The rest of the Senate and the patricians are all present. Marcellus has the Robe with him. Caligula has a guest…Salome…the same Salome who danced for Herod Antipas and demanded that John the Baptist be beheaded. He and Salome have a small wager going…that he can force Marcellus to renounce his Christian belief with the threat of a death sentence. Also present is the chief steward of the Gallio household, Marcipor, who is secretly a Christian.

The mention of the Big Fisherman refers to Simon Peter, the disciple of Christ, who, with Demetrius and Marcellus, has come to Rome.

The mention of Stephanos refers to Stephen, the first martyr, mentioned in the Acts Of The Apostles, chpt 6, who is portrayed in The Robe as a friend of Demetrius. His death by stoning was presided over by Saul of Tarsus, who would become St. Paul, the great Christian teacher and apostle.

Maybe it was a cheap ploy to reprint such a long passage from the book. It's actually longer than my story. But it's not to pad the story. Rather it's to provide some background. And my story is not a retelling of the tale, but a supplement.

All content is derived from the book by Lloyd Douglass or actual history. And since the book is in the public domain, there's no ©…at least in Australia, from which I downloaded the book…from the Australian Project Gutenberg, that is.

Addendum: I follow the suggestion of my reviewer, my man Old Soldier, and replace the the word "Fire" with the word "Loose" when the archers are ordered to shoot their arrows.

From the last chpt. of The Robe.

Diana was elated; her heart swelled with pride as Marcellus marched, head erect, in the hollow square of Palace Guards as they stalked into the banquet-hall and came to a halt before the Emperor's high table. The guards were all fine specimens of manhood, in their late twenties and early thirties; athletes, square-jawed, broad-shouldered, bronzed; yet-in every way, Marcellus, thought Diana, was the fittest of them all; and if ever this Jesus, whose own heroism had inspired her beloved Marcellus to endure this trial-if ever this Jesus was to have a champion worthy of him, surely he could ask for none more perfect than her Marcellus!

She had been so afraid he might not understand her being here beside this sick and drunk and loathsome little wretch, with the pasty skin and beady eyes and cruel mouth. But no-but no!-Marcellus understood. Their eyes met, his lighting up in an endearing smile. His lips pantomimed a kiss! Diana's heart beat hard-and her eyes were swimming.

Marcellus was asked to stand forth, and he stepped forward to face the Emperor. 

Everybody stood. The silence in the hall was oppressive. Outside in the Palace plaza the procession was forming that would convey Rome's lawgivers to the Temple of Jupiter. The triumphal music was blaring discordantly from a dozen gaudily decorated equipages in the waiting cavalcade, and the sweating crowds that had massed in the avenue were shouting drunkenly; but, within the spacious banquet-hall, the silence was tense.

'Tribune Marcellus Gallio,' began Caligula, with attempted dignity, 'you have been accused of consorting with a party of revolutionists known as Christians. It is said that these promoters of sedition-for the most part slaves and vandals-have proclaimed the kingship of one Jesus, a Palestinian Jew, who was put to death for treason, blasphemy, and disturbances of the public peace. What have you to say?'

Diana searched her beloved's impassive face. There was not a trace of fear. Indeed, to judge by his demeanour, the Emperor might have been bestowing an honour. How handsome he was in his Tribune's uniform! What was that brown garment that he held tightly in his folded arms? Diana's throat tightened as she identified the Robe. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. Oh, please, Christos! Marcellus is carrying your Robe! 

Please, Christos-Marcellus loves you so! He has given up so much for you! He is trying so hard to atone for what he did to you! Please, Christos! Do something for my Marcellus!

'It is true, Your Majesty,' Marcellus was replying, in a steady voice that could be heard through the banquet-hall, 'I am a Christian. But I am not a seditionist. I am not engaged in a plot to overthrow the Government. This Jesus, whom _I_ put to death on a cross, is indeed a King; but his Kingdom is not of this world. He does not seek an earthly throne. His Kingdom is a state of mind and heart that strives for peace and justice and good will among all men.'

'You say _you_ put this Jew to death?' barked Caligula. 'Why, then, are you risking your life to serve as his ambassador?'

'It is a fair question, sire. This Jesus was innocent of any crime. At his trial, the Procurator, who sat in judgment, entreated the prosecutors to release him. He had gone about among the country people advising them to be kind to one another, to be honest and truthful, merciful and forbearing. He had healed their sick, opened the eyes of the blind, and had spoken simple words of consolation to the distressed. They followed him-thousands of them-from place to place-day by day-hanging on his words and crowding close to him for comfort. They forsook their synagogues, where their priests had been interested in them only for their tithes and lambs, and banded themselves together to barter only with men who weighed with honest scales.' Marcellus paused, in his lengthy speech.

'Proceed!' commanded the Emperor. 'You are an able advocate!' He smiled contemptuously. 'You are almost persuading us to be a Christian.'

'Your Majesty,' went on Marcellus, in a remorseful tone, 'I was ordered to conduct the execution. The trial had been held in a language I did not understand; and not until my crime had been committed did I realize the enormity of it.'

'Crime, you say?' shouted Caligula, truculently. 'And was it a crime, then, to obey the command of the Empire?'

'The Empire, Your Majesty, is composed of fallible men who sometimes make mistakes. And this, sire, was the greatest mistake that was ever made!'

'So! the Empire makes mistakes, then!' growled Caligula. 'Perhaps you will be foolhardy enough to say that the Emperor himself might make a mistake!'

'It is I, Your Majesty, who am on trial; not the Emperor,' said Marcellus, bowing.

Caligula was not quite prepared to deal with that comment. He flushed darkly. A throaty little chuckle came up from Salome's direction, spurring his anger.

'What is that brown thing you have clutched in your arms?' he demanded, pointing his finger.

'It is his Robe, Your Majesty.' Marcellus held it up for inspection. 'He wore it to the cross.'

'And you have the impudence to bring it along to your trial, eh? Hand it to the Commander of the Guard.'

Marcellus obeyed. The Centurion reached out a hand, rather reluctantly, and in effecting the transfer, the robe fell to the floor. The Centurion haughtily waited for the prisoner to pick it up, but Marcellus made no move to do so.

'Hand that garment to the Commander!' ordered Caligula. Marcellus stooped, picked up the robe, and offered it to the Commander who motioned to the guard beside him to receive it. The guard took it-and dropped it. All breathing was suspended in the banquet-hall.

'Bring that thing here!' shouted Caligula, with bravado. He extended his hand with fingers outspread. Marcellus moved to obey. Salome glanced up suddenly, caught Caligula's eye, and ventured a warning frown. 'Hand it to the daughter of Legate Gallus,' he commanded. 'She will keep it for you-as a memento.'

It was a most impressive moment. Marcellus reached up and handed the robe to Diana, who leaned forward eagerly to receive it. They exchanged an intimate, lingering smile just as if they were alone together. Marcellus stepped back to his place beside the Commander, and all eyes were fixed on Diana's enraptured face as she gathered the robe to her bosom, regarding it with a tenderness that was almost maternal.

Little Boots was not easily embarrassed, but it was plain to see that the situation was becoming somewhat complicated. He had intended it as a drama to impress the Senate. These great ones needed to learn that their new Emperor expected unqualified loyalty and obedience, and plenty of it, whether the subject be a penniless nobody or a person of high rank. The play hadn't gone well. The other actors were neglecting to furnish cues for the imperial speeches. His face was twisted with a mounting rage. He glared at Marcellus.

'You seem to attach a great deal of significance to this old coat!'

'Yes, Your Majesty,' replied Marcellus, quietly.

'Are you fool enough to believe that there is some magic in it?'

'It does possess a peculiar power, Your Majesty, for those who believe that it was worn by the Son of God.'

There was a concerted stir throughout the great room; sound of a quick, involuntary intake of breath; throaty sound of incredulous murmurs; metallic sound of sidearms suddenly jostled in their scabbards as men turned about to dart inquiring glances at their neighbours.

'Blasphemer!' bellowed Caligula. 'Have you the effrontery to stand there-at this sacred feast in honour of Jupiter-and calmly announce that your crucified Jew is divine?'

'It is not in disrespect to Jupiter, Your Majesty. Many generations of our people have said their prayers to Jupiter, and My King is not jealous of that homage. He has compassion upon every man's longing to abide under the shadow of some sheltering wing. Jesus did not come into the world to denounce that aspiration, but to invite all who love truth and mercy to listen to his voice-and walk in his way.'

Diana was so proud-so very proud of Marcellus! Really-it wasn't Marcellus who was on trial! Everybody in the great room was on trial-all but Marcellus! Caligula was storming-but he had no case! Oh, she thought, what an Emperor Marcellus would have made! She wanted to shout, 'Senators! Give Marcellus the crown! Let him make our Empire great!'

The stirring music from the plaza was growing in volume. The shouts of the multitude were strident, impatient. It was time for the procession to start.

'Tribune Marcellus Gallio,' said Caligula, sternly, 'it is not our wish to condemn you to death in the presence of your aged father and the honourable men who, with him, serve the Empire in the Senate. Deliberate well, therefore, when you reply to this final question: Do you now recant, and forever renounce, your misguided allegiance to this Galilean Jew-who called himself a King?'

Again a portentous hush fell over the banquet-hall. Salome was observed to glance up with an arch smile and a little shrug, as she picked up the Emperor's emerald bracelet and clasped it on her arm.

'Your Majesty,' replied Marcellus, 'if the Empire desires peace and justice and good will among all men, my King will be on the side of the Empire and her Emperor. If the Empire and the Emperor desire to pursue the slavery and slaughter that has brought agony and terror and despair to the world'-Marcellus's voice had risen to a clarion tone-'if there is then nothing further for men to hope for but chains and hunger at the hands of our Empire-my King will march forward to right this wrong! Not to-morrow, sire! Your Majesty may not be so fortunate as to witness the establishment of this Kingdom. But it will surely come!'

'And that is your final word?' asked Caligula.

'Yes, Your Majesty,' said Marcellus.

Caligula drew himself up erectly.

'Tribune Marcellus Gallio,' he announced, 'it is our decree that you be taken immediately to the Palace Archery Field and put to death-for high treason.'

Even while the sentence was being passed, a fresh sensation stirred the audience. Diana had left her place at the Emperor's table and was walking proudly, confidently, down the steps of the dais, to take her stand beside Marcellus. He slipped his arm about her, tenderly.

'No, darling, no!' he entreated, as if no one heard. 'Listen to me, my sweetheart! You mustn't do this! I am willing to die-but there is no reason why you should risk your life! Bid me farewell-and leave me!'

Diana smiled into his eyes, and faced the Emperor. When she spoke, her voice was uncommonly deep, for a girl, but clearly audible to the silent spectators of this strange drama.

'Your Majesty,' she said, calmly, 'I, too, am a Christian. Marcellus is my husband. May I go with him?'

There was an inarticulate murmur of protest through the banquet-hall. Caligula nervously fumbled with his fingers and shook his head.

'The daughter of Gallus is brave,' he said, patronizingly. 'But we have no charge against her. Nor have we any wish to punish her. You love your husband, but your love will do him no good-when he is dead.'

'It will, sire, if I go with him,' persisted Diana, 'for then we will never part. And we will live together-always-in a Kingdom of love-and peace.'

'In a Kingdom, eh?' chuckled Caligula, bitterly. 'So you too believe in this nonsense about a Kingdom. Well'-he added with a negligent gesture-'you may stand aside. You are not being tried. There is no indictment.'

'If it please Your Majesty,' said Diana, boldly, 'may I then provide evidence to warrant a conviction? I have no wish to live another hour in an Empire so far along on the road to ruin that it would consent to be governed by one who has no interest in the welfare of his people.'

There was a spontaneous gasp from the audience. Caligula, stunned to speechlessness, listened with his mouth open.

'I think I speak the thoughts of everyone present, sire,' went on Diana, firmly. 'These wise men all know that the Empire is headed for destruction-and they know why! As for me, I have another King-and I desire to go with my husband-into that Kingdom!'

Little Boots's face was livid.

'By the gods, you shall!' he screamed. 'Go-both of you-into your Kingdom!'

He gestured violently to the Commander of the Guards. There was an order barked. A bugle sounded a strident blast. The drums rattled a prolonged roll. The tall soldiers, marking time, waited the crisp command. The word was given. Marcellus and Diana, hand in hand, marched in the hollow square, as it moved down the broad aisle toward the imposing archway. Old Gallio, trembling, pushed forward through the crowd, but was detained by friendly hands and warning murmurs.

As the procession of guards, and the condemned, disappeared through the great marble arch, the audience was startled by the harsh, drunken laughter of Little Boots.

Amid loud, hysterical guffaws, he shrieked, 'They are going into a better Kingdom! Ha! ha! They are going now to meet their King!'

But nobody, except Little Boots, thought it was an occasion for derisive laughter. There was not a smile on any face. All stood, grim and silent. And when Little Boots observed that his merriment was not shared, he suddenly grew surly, and without a dismissing word, stumbled toward the steps of the dais, where Quintus took his arm. Outside, the metallic music blared for Jupiter.

Hand in hand, Diana and Marcellus kept step with the Guards. Both were pale, but smiling. With measured tread the procession marched briskly the length of the corridor, and down the marble steps into the congested plaza. The massed multitude, not knowing what was afoot, but assuming that this was the first contingent of the notables who would join the gaudy parade to the Temple of Jupiter, raised a mighty shout.

Old Marcipor strode forward from the edge of the crowd, tears streaming down his face. Marcellus whispered something into Diana's ear. She smiled, and nodded.

Slipping between two of the guards, she tossed the Robe into the old man's arms.

'For the Big Fisherman!' she said.

_**A BETTER KINGDOM**_

The night before Ludi Romani festival, Marcellus Gallio had been personally arrested by Tribune Quintus, of the Equestrian Knights. Quintus had the honor…or dishonor…of being Caligula's personal lackey.

Diana was distraught. She spent the night sleepless. For the first time she could remember, she called upon the gods. She began to intercede with Father Jupiter…but the stern bearded face of the King of the gods kept getting mixed up with the old dotard face of Tiberius and the leering stare of Caligula. She gave that up. She turned to Vesta, the mother of Rome. And in her desperation, began calling upon the new Deity of her beloved's recountings to her.

He was tall and well-built, Marcellus had said. Marcellus had seen Him only in the closing hours of His Life, convulsing upon the Cross.

In the days of His Manhood, He had walked all over the countryside and could teach the crowds and talk with the people for hours. His Touch brought light to darkened eyes…sound to ears stuffed with silence…movement to shriveled limbs…and peace to tormented souls. And it was when Marcellus had followed in the steps of this Jesus with Demetrius that he saw His true Face mirrored in the faces of His followers. And both Marcellus and Demetrius became followers of the Christos themselves.

And so, on the morrow, before the emperor was to lead the procession to Jupiter's Temple and offer the sacrifice to Rome's divine protector and patron, he would pass judgment on one who was spreading a seditious faith in a new god.

Caligula expected Marcellus to crumble like a coward. He would lose face…and Diana's heart…and his father's honor. It would be a propitious day for the son of Germanicus.

The Senate…the Patricians…the Praetorians…all were gathered. Diana was compelled to sit with Caligula, opposite Salome, Roman society's newest luminary

Marcellus Gallio, whom Tiberius had scorned as a madman…whom Roman society had known as a fellow carouser and gamer…spoke like an orator…a prophet…a Caesar. He held them spellbound with the story of the Jewish Teacher Who healed the blind and deaf, the crippled and insane…Who brought the dead to life…Who came back to life Himself…Who promised eternal life to who would follow Him. Who proclaimed that the one Jewish God was above all the gods of Rome…that He was the God of all the nations.

Marcellus called Jesus the Christos…the Chosen. He called Him a King…the King of a greater empire than Rome…the King of every broken heart. Diana's knuckles turned white and she clutched the Robe to her bosom. She bit her lip and suppressed a sob…both out of a sense of hopelessness and thrill.

"My King will one day return! He will establish an eternal Realm over all the earth!" His voice carried like a trumpet over the vast Hall of Audience.

Marcellus was utterly alone…as alone as his Christos had been. Caligula, attired in his imperial purple robes…wearing the gold laurel cluster on his head…surrounded by his imposing Praetorian Guards…Caligula, the sly weasel who aspired to the role of Imperator, shivered in his chair like a frightened mouse

Again, Diana addressed a Deity in her heart. _Be with him, Christos. Stand by him as he stands for you_.

Marcellus bowed his head as Caligula pronounced the sentence of death. Not in fear…but only in humble courageous submission to every man's fate.

In the blink of an eye…in a single beat of her heart…Diana Gallus…no, she reminded herself…Diana Gallio made her decision. Her own fear of death melted away like a single breath. She herself would stand by the man she loved. She would walk with her husband into this new Kingdom.

She went and stood by his side. He looked at her in alarm as she drew near.

"Don't forbid me, my love. I told you…I won't lose you."

The assembled crowd of the Imperial Court represented the influential of the city of Rome…the entire Empire. The community of the elite, who wallowed in luxury and excess, whose jaded tastes were titillated by the gladiatorial games, the chariot races, and the endless banquets, whose cynical attitudes hardly stirred at the scandals of Augustus and the perversities of Tiberius and Caligula, was shocked to its core. First, one of its own, a playboy Tribune, had renounced his position of privilege and wealth to espouse a belief in a god of slaves and barbarians. And second, the daughter of nobility who had been primed to be Caesar's consort, cast aside her opportunity and birthright…not for gain…but for love!

The collective soul of Rome had been dealt a grievous blow. And it caused some to wonder if they were seeing a thing that was not seen in for generations…since the Republic. A belief…a hope…in something better. Something to inspire. Something decent. Something pure. Something worth dying for.

The Princess Salome was still smiling cattily and playing absently with Caligula's emerald bracelet when Marcellus made his final impassioned statement. She lifted her eyebrow and made a malicious smirk when Caligula sentenced Marcellus to death. But when Diana stood up to join Marcellus, she sat bolt upright. The lovely cruel little mouth hung open in astonishment. And when Diana denounced Caligula to his face. Salome the daughter of Herodias clutched at her chest in shock. The jeweled armlet slipped from her hand and dropped to marble floor with a small thunk.

At her tender age, Salome the Idumaean of the house of Antipater was as sophisticated and wanton as any courtesan in the sadly debauched empire. She had laughed in derision at the superstitions of her uncle, Herod Antipas when he thought that Jesus of Nazareth might be John the Baptist come back to life. She had laughed in derision at the superstitions of Procula, Pilate's wife and Tiberius' daughter, who had seen the Galilean in a dream, and had sent word to the governor to have nothing to do with 'that just man'.

And when the Jesus fellow had been arrested and brought to the royal residence in Jerusalem for questioning, she had gone to see for herself. Antipas had tried to belittle Jesus into performing a miracle. Anyone with a pair of eyes and a set of wits could see that Jesus was not John the Baptist. Salome had laughed when reports came of Jesus' return to life, and reports of thousands of converts, and dozens of more miracles. She had even laughed when Caligula ridiculed Marcellus before Diana by mockingly telling saying he had almost been persuaded to become a Christian. It was all great show.

But to see one like herself…the daughter of wealth and nobility…who had been offered a throne…to see one like that fling the offer back like dung and thoughtlessly discard her life…that disturbed the princess profoundly. Salome began to wonder if the Robe might not indeed be bewitched.

Senator Marcus Lucan Gallio stood impotently, trembling with fury. His only son, whom he had so demeaned, was going to die. He had fought all his life to resist the corruptions of Sulla and Marius…to uphold the old Republican traditions. He suddenly thought of another tradition…resistance against tyranny…like Horatius defending the bridge over the Tiber…like Cincinnatus consenting to be Dictator for one day to defend Rome…even like Brutus stabbing Julius Caesar, however misguided that might have been. He craved to feel a sword in his clenched fist. Without hesitation, he would have struck down that poisonous adder who masqueraded as a ruler. Even if it meant the cross for himself and the sword for his family. _Father Jupiter…Mars…Mother Vesta…you gods…if you exist at all…even this dead Jew…take my life, that I should not remember this travesty-show favor to my son, who bears himself like a Roman…purify my city…remove the stain of dishonor…I beseech you. _A great bitterness filled his heart. Too late, he saw that this son of his might have been the gift of the gods after all-the hope of restoring Rome's heritage.

Caligula giggled. The sound became louder. It was the hysterical laughter of one demented. "They're going to a better Kingdom! A new world! They're going to meet their King. Rome sends her ambassador to the new Kingdom! Both of you…give your new King Caesar's regards! Perhaps we shall send more of His followers to His Realm!"

The assembled courtiers and Senators bowed their heads, some in shame and some in fear. Tiberius had been a despot, but at least he was sane. A maniac now wore Caesar's name and wielded Caesar's authority. The mob and the Praetorian Guard were his…and no one's life was safe.

Caligula's rants receded behind them. The din of the crowd outside was barely audible. Diana and Marcellus walked in a golden haze. Their life in this world was suddenly made very brief. The shadow on the sundial was pointing to day's end. Their sun was setting, and the dusk of an eternal sleep was gathering about them. Diana would not have foreseen it a day ago. Within moments, they would take their rest. And the next sunrise would be a far brighter day.

They clasped hands and murmured softly to each other.

"I hope and pray that Jesus will give you back your freckles, Diana."

"I've missed your teasing, Marcellus. Will you still tease me in this new Kingdom?"

"Only if you want me to."

Near the entrance of the great Chamber of Imperial Audience stood the two mothers, Cornelia Gallio and Paula Gallus. Paula was a widow. Diana was her only child. Now she would be alone…the mother of one who died an enemy of Rome. She would spend the remainder of her life under the scrutiny of the State. Sometimes even the families of traitors were executed.

But both mothers lifted their chins and met the couple's gaze with looks of pride and love. They did not avert their eyes from their children with shame and disgrace. And even as their former friends, the other patrician wives of Rome, edged nervously away from them, Cornelia firmly held Paula's hand, as if to seal the bond between the two families that were now united by this all-too-brief marriage. And Diana and Marcellus acknowledged the unspoken love with barely perceptible nods.

Caligula's aide, the Tribune Quintus, watched as Diana handed the Robe to the Gallio servant, Marcipor. He did not recognize the man…which would not be unusual. Quintus was not in the habit of noticing those who were his inferiors. But he curtly ordered a couple guards to intercept the Robe. He would see to Its destruction personally. He would have It burned…as Marcellus should've done…or even Emperor Tiberius, when he had the opportunity. This would please and flatter Caligula.

But the man with the Robe was nowhere to be seen by the time the guards had worked their through the crowd to the spot where he had been seen…and the only two who might know where he had gone were on their way to a death sentence.

The little group was awash in the clamor of the crowd that had gathered for the ceremonial procession to Jupiter's Temple and the commemorative sacrifice.

Diana's voice now quivered with some apprehension. "Marcellus…I'm afraid. What if your King won't accept me? I don't know if my faith is strong enough."

He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "He forgave all His persecutors as He died…both Jewish and Roman. He forgave me, though I didn't yet know it. He promised a criminal dying next to Him to that he would be with Him that very day. You and I will be with Him, my dearest."

"Do you promise me, my husband?"

"With all my heart, my wife."

Diana glanced around the city she grew up. It seemed so strange…seeing it for the last time. She hardly regretting leaving it…except…"Marcellus…if Rome kills all who feel as we do…how will our people ever learn better?"

Marcellus also regarded what seemed to him a place now as foreign as Germania, or a part of the empire he had never been. _Somewhere in the city is Peter. Somewhere in the empire is Saul of Tarsus, who presided over the stoning of Demetrius' friend Stephanos…the zealous hater of the Christos who is now become a zealous servant of the Christos. _"I feel it, my dear. Where they now worship the gods, they will one day worship our Jesus."

Diana nodded. "Yes…yes. I see it too. Rome will honor Him as it now honors Jupiter."

Marcellus listened with some awe and wonder. He could hear the confidence increasing even as she spoke. It had taken him many months to come to faith and acceptance. Diana was finding hers in a mere moment.

A few paces further, and she spoke again. "Marcellus, my love…I wish I could have given you a son."

"Who knows what the next life holds for us, my dearest? Perhaps we shall have many fine sons and daughters." It was a few more steps and he spoke. "I wish I could've given you a better wedding, my love. And many gifts. I had only His Robe to give you…and that only for a moment. And your husband dies in disfavor."

This time it was Diana who bolstered Marcellus' flagging spirit. "My husband defied Caesar. My husband looked him in the eye and caused him to quail in fear. If my husband were Emperor, I couldn't be prouder."

All too soon, the brief walk ended. "Detail…halt!" snapped the captain of the guard, signaling it was the time and place of the execution. The troop and prisoners stood still, and the couple faced each other.

Diana abruptly gave in to her emotions. She seized Marcellus' neck in an intense hug. Her fingers took hold of his hair. She kissed him passionately on the lips and cheeks. "Marcellus…I love you!" she whispered fiercely. Her tears wet his cheeks and neck.

He clasped Diana in an embrace that lifted her off her feet. Life was suddenly very sweet. His composure nearly broke, "Courage, my love! Take courage. Just a few more moments."

For a long moment, they gazed into each others' eyes. Marcellus brushed the stray strands of hair from Diana's face. "I love your freckles…every one of them. I love your eyes…your lips…your cheeks. I love you. I hardly deserve you."

Diana's eyes drank Marcellus' face…the tender eyes…the noble brow-the strong mouth. She caught his hand and kissed it, and repeated her own earlier affirmation. "My chosen husband…you made me so proud, the way you confronted Caligula. And he thinks to hurt us by sending us to a better kingdom. But he's done us a kindness. I've never been so happy."

The captain and the guards stood by in unspoken accord, giving the two lovers this final moment.

The archery field had a row of posts that held targets. Two guards began to tie both Diana and Marcellus to them.

"No!" ordered the captain curtly. "He is a tribune and a commander. And she is his wife. They will die with honor-not trussed like animals."

Marcellus nodded at the captain. The captain saluted with his sword.

The squad of archers lined up in formation. The squad and the condemned faced each other.

"Archers!" barked the captain. "Prepare!"

Each archer drew a single arrow from his quiver.

The couple turned their faces toward each other. They reached out and grasped hands tightly. Their eyes were bright and their smiles joyful.

"Ready-!"

The arrows were nocked in the bowstrings.

"-Aim-!"

The bows were raised and arrows leveled.

"-**-Loose!**"

Diana and Marcellus barely heard the rasp of the bowstrings that were drawn back-or the whistle of the arrows that flew. They both felt the sudden stab of pain in their breasts. The momentary agony caused them to gasp.

_Even so did He feel the pain of the spikes in His Hands and Feet…the thorns on His Brow…the flagellum on His Back…and the pierce of the lance into His Side_, thought Marcellus. _And my love consents to share this fate with me._

_My husband and I…we die together. What more could I ask?_ thought Diana.

The captain of the guard inspected the two bodies. He grimaced. Such a waste. He, the son a Senator, and she, the daughter of a Legate. Their families were among the wealthiest in Rome. And giving up their lives for some superstition hatched out of Palestine. And the woman. So beautiful…consenting to die with this deluded fool. The feathered shafts protruding from her bosom made him disgusted. Her life's blood stained her stola. An unconscionable waste. He ordered cloaks to be thrown over their bodies, and instructed his aide to personally oversee the delivery of the bodies to their families. As children of patrician households, they deserved that much.

And yet…the smiles on their faces. The tight handhold they each maintained, even in death. The captain put his hand to his chest, where, under his armor, there hung an amulet. He himself was a follower of the Persian god, Mithras, as many soldiers were. He wondered, with a pang of regret, if he would face his death like these two faced theirs.

Almost before their lifeless remains had slumped to the ground, Diana and Marcellus were aware that they were in another place. The light here made the most gorgeous sunrise seem like stormy overcast day. The breeze blew an air so sweet that it made the fragrance of flowers in the spring seem like odor of a latrine. The surface under their feet was translucent, like gleaming gold, yet like sparkling glass. The sound that met their ears was like a vast chorus…or the muted roar of the rolling ocean at the shore. It was melodic. A single word seemed to be repeated in different timbres and tonalities. It reverberated in the ground and the air. _Gloria_.

Looking up, Marcellus saw One enthroned-the same Man Who humbly rode a donkey into Jerusalem. Yet not the same…glorified…surrounded by an innumerable Host…and the Face he had seen that awful day at Golgotha. "My Lord," he murmured.

Diana also saw. " Omnipotens Deus," she whispered in the old Latin. _The Almighty God_. "Oh, Marcellus…I had no idea…"

He smiled, and raised His nail-scarred Hands to embrace them.

They both bowed, hearts overflowing with awe.

And they heard the warm rich Voice of welcome. _**"My dear little children, you were faithful to the death. A Crown of Life is now yours. Enter, My beloved ones, the Kingdom I have prepared for you."**_


End file.
